Plays by Susan Glaspell Part 12

HARRY: Well, that was an error in judgment.

CLAIRE: I'm such a naive trusting person (HARRY _laughs_--CLAIRE _gives him a surprised look, continues simply_). Such a guileless soul that I thought flying would do something to a man. But it didn't take us out.

We just took it in.

TOM: It's only our own spirit can take us out.

HARRY: Whatever you mean by out.

CLAIRE: (_after looking intently at_ TOM, _and considering it_) But our own spirit is not something on the loose. Mine isn't. It has something to do with what I do. To fly. To be free in air. To look from above on the world of all my days. Be where man has never been! Yes--wouldn't you think the spirit could get the idea? The earth grows smaller. I am leaving. What are they--running around down there? Why do they run around down there? Houses? Houses are funny lines and down-going slants--houses are vanishing slants. I am alone. Can I breathe this rarer air? Shall I go higher? Shall I go too high? I am loose. I am out.

But no; man flew, and returned to earth the man who left it.

HARRY: And jolly well likely not to have returned at all if he'd had those flighty notions while operating a machine.

CLAIRE: Oh, Harry! (_not lightly asked_) Can't you see it would be better not to have returned than to return the man who left it?

HARRY: I have some regard for human life.

CLAIRE: Why, no--I am the one who has the regard for human life, (_more lightly_) That was why I swiftly divorced my stick-in-the-mud artist and married--the man of flight. But I merely pa.s.sed from a stick-in-the-mud artist to a--

d.i.c.k: Stick-in-the-air aviator?

HARRY: Speaking of your stick-in-the-mud artist, as you romantically call your first blunder, isn't his daughter--and yours--due here to-day?

CLAIRE: I knew something was disturbing me. Elizabeth. A daughter is being delivered unto me this morning. I have a feeling it will be more painful than the original delivery. She has been, as they quaintly say, educated; prepared for her place in life.

HARRY: And fortunately Claire has a sister who is willing to give her young niece that place.

CLAIRE: The idea of giving anyone a place in life.

HARRY: Yes! The very idea!

CLAIRE: Yes! (_as often, the mocking thing gives true expression to what lies sombrely in her_) The war. There was another gorgeous chance.

HARRY: Chance for what? I call you, Claire. I ask you to say what you mean.

CLAIRE: I don't know--precisely. If I did--there'd be no use saying it.

(_at_ HARRY's _impatient exclamation she turns to_ TOM)

TOM: (_nodding_) The only thing left worth saying is the thing we can't say.

HARRY: Help!

CLAIRE: Yes. But the war didn't help. Oh, it was a stunning chance! But fast as we could--scuttled right back to the trim little thing we'd been shocked out of.

HARRY: You bet we did--showing our good sense.

CLAIRE: Showing our incapacity--for madness.

HARRY: Oh, come now, Claire--snap out of it. You're not really trying to say that capacity for madness is a good thing to have?

CLAIRE: (_in simple surprise_) Why yes, of course.

d.i.c.k: But I should say the war did leave enough madness to give you a gleam of hope.

CLAIRE: Not the madness that--breaks through. And it was--a stunning chance! Mankind ma.s.sed to kill. We have failed. We are through. We will destroy. Break this up--it can't go farther. In the air above--in the sea below--it is to kill! All we had thought we were--we aren't. We were shut in with what wasn't so. Is there one ounce of energy has not gone to this killing? Is there one love not torn in two? Throw it in! Now?

Ready? Break up. Push. Harder. Break up. And then--and then--But we didn't say--'And then--' The spirit didn't take the tip.

HARRY: Claire! Come now (_looking to the others for help_)--let's talk of something else.

CLAIRE: Plants do it. The big leap--it's called. Explode their species--because something in them knows they've gone as far as they can go. Something in them knows they're shut in to just that. So--go mad--that life may not be prisoned. Break themselves up into crazy things--into lesser things, and from the pieces--may come one sliver of life with vitality to find the future. How beautiful. How brave.

TOM: (_as if he would call her from too far--or would let her know he has gone with her_) Claire!

CLAIRE: (_her eyes turning to him_) Why should we mind lying under the earth? We who have no such initiative--no proud madness? Why think it death to lie under life so flexible--so ruthless and ever-renewing?

ANTHONY: (_from the door of the inner room_) Miss Claire?

CLAIRE: (_after an instant_) Yes? (_she goes with him, as they disappear his voice heard_,'show me now ... want those violets bedded')

HARRY: Oh, this has got to _stop_. I've got to--put a stop to it some way. Why, Claire used to be the best sport a man ever played around with. I can't stand it to see her getting hysterical.

TOM: That was not hysterical.

HARRY: What was it then--I want to know?

TOM: It was--a look.

HARRY: Oh, I might have known I'd get no help from either of you. Even you, Edgeworthy--much as she thinks of you--and fine sort as I've no doubt you are, you're doing Claire no good--encouraging her in these queer ways.

TOM: I couldn't change Claire if I would.

HARRY: And wouldn't if you could.

TOM: No. But you don't have to worry about me. I'm going away in a day or two. And I shall not be back.

HARRY: Trouble with you is, it makes little difference whether you're here or away. Just the fact of your existence does encourage Claire in this--this way she's going.

TOM: (_with a smile_) But you wouldn't ask me to go so far as to stop my existence? Though I would do that for Claire--if it were the way to help her.

HARRY: By Jove, you say that as if you meant it.

TOM: Do you think I would say anything about Claire I didn't mean?

HARRY: You think a lot of her, don't you? (TOM _nods_) You don't mean (_a laugh letting him say it_)--that you're--in love with Claire!

TOM: In love? Oh, that's much too easy. Certainly I do love Claire.

HARRY: Well, you're a cool one!